TM Riddle
by Lady Evenstar
Summary: Voldemort and Harry battle for the final time, and Voldie is defeated, but with complications. Out of the carnage comes Tom Riddle, with a whole slew of problems. Will he remain good, or will the Death Eaters again claim thier master? CH 3: HARRY IS FOUND
1. The Battle

~T.M Riddle~

Disclaimer: Let's see…whom does Harry belong to? Apparently, it's not me…. 

This is rated for angst, so don't read on if you can't handle that sort of stuff. It's sort-of my conception of the moments before Voldemort is killed, and what forced him into becoming such a monster. From Harry's POV.

*

Pain. Burning, inexorable pain, and not just in my scar, it was all over, all over…

Currently I lay in a pool of blood on the Hogwarts field, my wand arm shattered, unable to see out of my left eye, barely able to breathe due to my shattered ribs, but not yet dead. Voldemort was skilled in his penchant for sadism, and the day I had spent with him made life at the Dursleys look like a heaven-sent sanctuary, but I was not dead yet. Partly because of that little Boy-Who-Lived voice in my head that stubbornly forces me to cling to life, but also because Voldemort hadn't decided to finish torturing me yet.

Hate burned within me, so strong that I could taste its acid in his mouth, as the monster paced in front of me. I struggled in vain to get to my knees, to at least die with some semblance of pride, in stead of like a dog at his feet.

He smiled and laughed cruelly at my attempts, kicking me in my already wounded ribs, driving the breath from my lungs.

"Are you in pain, Harry Potter?" he hissed as I doubled up.

I did not answer him. "Crucio," * he called.

A cry was torn from my lips, as the spell reopened my wounds, driving away my previous assumption that I could not bleed any more than I already had. I retched, but nothing came- it was all emptied.

He stopped abruptly, and knelt in front of me, obviously to wring more satisfaction out of my pain. But then, he did something that surprised me.

"He was alive," said Voldemort, red eyes glossed over, as if recalling something distant in his memory.

"What?" I croaked, unable to comprehend what he was talking about, and surprisingly interested in it.

__

No- I hate him- he killed my parents- I thought then.

"He was alive, and still he put me in that hell hole. I was a freak, he told me when he came to visit me that one time. He would have never married my mother had he known, he told me. The bastard."

As if from some distant dream, dimly I remembered that as a child Voldemort had lived in an orphanage.

Why was he telling me this? Why now, when I was almost dead? What the hell good would it do him? I hate him.

"They beat me. They starved me. They forced me to work my hands to the bone, because, they claimed, they put a roof over my head. I was lucky to make it into Hogwarts alive. But once I got there, things changed. Did you know, Harry, that they sorted me into Gryffindor?"

He was talking as if carrying on a conversation with an old friend, I thought incredulously. "No- that can't be true, you're Slytherins heir!"

He laughed again. I wanted to wipe that expression off his face. "I was good in Gryffindor, for the first few years. Then, in fifth year, I returned 'home' for summer holiday, just as I always had. But the caretaker's condition had deteriorated even more. One day, in a drunken rage, he nearly beat me to death for 'getting in his way.' It hurt. A lot. I was convinced that it would be the end of me. So do you know what I did?"

I shook my head. I wanted to say, 'What do I care, you masochist bastard?' but could not quite bring my self to do it.

"I hexed him. The first one that came to mind. And it was the death curse. Then I panicked, because I knew the ministry was coming to get me for it, since I wasn't allowed to use magic as a student, and especially because I had killed a man. Back then I actually cared what the ministry thought. So I got my best friend in the orphanage, Kitty, to hide him in the basement when they came to search, and I set it up to look like a house elf did it. But before I could pull it off, they found Kitty in the basement, and they killed her on the spot because they were convinced she was the one who cast the spell. Needless to say, I was devastated. I didn't move for weeks. I had _killed _a man, and inadvertently killed the only person in the world that mattered to me."

"That's when I truly began my transformation to power. I vowed to myself that I would become the most powerful wizard in the world, and give payback to everyone for the pain that I had suffered. Whether people lived or died, how they lived, it would all be under my control! And that year I returned to Hogwarts, and opened the chamber. That year I showed up at my father's house, and I killed him. But it wasn't enough, Harry. I needed more."

"And I graduated, and traveled the world, and held true to my promise. I would have the world in my grip, Harry, if you hadn't stopped me. But now you will die, too, and suffer. You will know my pain!"

But at that moment, as Voldemort raised his wand, I stood and held out my uninjured arm. I don't know exactly what moved me to do it. The 'Cruciatus' curse bounced harmlessly off my palm.

Voldemort's face twisted in fury, but the anger from before that had burned within me had dissipated. It was pity, now, that filled me, pity for the creature in front of me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry for your pain." He had spent the past few years trying to kill me, but now I understood him with clarity I could not achieve at fourteen. I shared his pain, partially, of being an orphan and living in an abusive household. I recognized him for what he was- a soul, twisted to the limit and then pushed beyond. I understood him as the creature I might have become, if not for my friends and godfather. And I wept for him, even as I recognized that I was stronger than his madness.

It was this understanding that enabled me to use magic without my wand, I think. I was able to clear my mind and concentrate, and utilize the powers that were granted to Gryffindor's heir.

"How can you understand my pain?" cried Voldemort, hurling another hex at me.

"Because," I answered him, "we are the same." The hex bounced off again. Belatedly, I noticed I had begun to glow golden.

"We are both heirs, Voldemort. Our paths were laid out for us before we were born, and there was nothing we could do to change that. You have done your part; now I'll do mine." Oh god, I thought, now I'm starting to sound like Trelawaney, talking about destiny. But I greeted the higher truth with respect, and called it as I saw it. What I had said was true; neither Tom Riddle nor Harry Potter had control over where their paths led.

Voldemort stood stiffly in front of me, lip curled in hate. "Damn you, boy," he hissed resignedly as I cast "Avada Kedavara" with the last of my strength.

Then Voldemort was gone, and I slumped to the ground, a sort of detachment filling me. Tom Riddle, dressed in Gryffindor robes, was now standing where Voldemort had stood. He smiled handsomely, now fully in possession of himself. "Thank you, Harry," he said, voice echoing strangely as if from far away.

"You're welcome, Tom," I sighed, and as the blackness took me, I wished only that I could see Hermione again, and Ron and Sirius and Hagrid, but most of all, Dumbledore…to tell him he was right, about everything.

Voldemort was dead, really dead, now. Now, and for eternity, he would merely be…Tom Marvolo Riddle.

*

*thanks to Unicorn girl for the info on the curses' spelling…unfortunately, I haven't read the fourth book in a long, long time…;^-^ I'm waiting for the fifth!

A/N: Just a re-post to clean up a few things…


	2. "Harry"

Disclamer: Neither Harry nor Tom belong to me…*sob*

A/N: Well, I just have to say, I was really surprised that this story got any reviews at all. I was expecting either none, or a few flames along the lines of "I hated your story you sadistic bitch, why the hell did Harry ever pity Voldemort, ect, ect…" But you guys liked it! Thank you!

In fact, I was planning to start another Tom story altogether, but I'll keep on with this one now. I hope you enjoy chap. Two….

*

Where am I? the boy thought to himself as he wandered the long, dark tunnel that stretched on endlessly in front of him, following the light up ahead. In fact, it wasn't like wandering- rather, he should say, it was floating. Floating upwards, through the tunnel.

The boy was sure that he hadn't been anywhere like this before, but somehow he knew what to do. He had to reach the light.

He stretched his hand out in front of him, and then he was touching two gigantic, golden gates, and the tunnel fell away behind him. So- what now?

"Harry," a soft, low voice called to him.

Harry? Is that my name? thought the boy, even as he turned to face the source of the voice. It was a woman, swathed all in a gold too bright to look at. She floated a little above the ground, and the snow- white wings of an angel stretched behind her. As he looked into her beautiful, green eyes, he suddenly realized that somehow he knew her; but- how?

"Do you recognize me, my son?" she asked him in the same low voice. It was sweet and smooth as honey.

"No," he answered her honestly.

The angel smiled and nodded. "Then, it is not your time, love. It saddens me to part from you yet again- but someday, we will spend an eternity together. I promise."

The angel took him into her arms. She smelled of spring, and lilies. Harry- for now he had accepted that as his name- reached up and wove his fingers through her long, red hair, clinging to her for dear life. He did not want to leave her comfort.

"Who are you?" he sighed.

"I am your mother. I am Lily," she answered, and drew away from him. He tried to grasp at her again, but it was like attempting to hold handfuls of light. Then he was falling, back down the tunnel.

"Wait!" he called out, reaching for her receding form.

"Goodbye, Harry, and good luck!" his mother answered, and he hit the bottom, and blacked out.

*

It smelled bad. That was the first thing that Harry noticed as he came back to himself. Not bad in the sense of garbage, but in the sense of death, and sickness. It smelled sterile.

His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth, and he was extremely weak. Desperately, he tried to remember why he had ended up like this.

He forced himself back into full consciousness, and dimly he heard someone holding a conversation in his room.

"You say you're his brother?" the voice- a man- demanded with authority. _Ah,_ thought Harry_, that sounds like a doctor. I must be in a hospital._

"Yes." The second voice answered. This one sounded rather young.

"He's had a bad concussion, and may be experiencing memory loss. He's also had severe blood loss, so we'll have to keep him here for a while. But other than that, it's nothing serious."

"Thank you, doctor."

There was the sound of a door being shut, and then everything was quiet again, except for a rhythmic 'beep' of a machine behind him. What should he do? Should he attempt a conversation with the owner of the second voice? He didn't even know who it was- what if-

"I know you're awake," said the same voice from before, the one who had been speaking with the doctor. 

With a groan, Harry carefully opened his eyes. Then he stifled a cry- the boy was inches away from his face!

The boy laughed. He was rather good looking, reflected Harry, with dark hair that graced a pale complexion.

"Hallo. Sorry to scare you," he said. "You're looking better. You were nearly dead when I brought you here, you know, which of course is my own fault. But I made up for it- I saved your life, as well." He reached out to brush Harry's bangs from his forehead. "That scar is gone."

"What scar?" croaked Harry.

"What scar?" cried the other, as if shocked. Then he looked reflective. "Do you really have memory loss? Can't you remember me?"

"No," Harry answered, for the second time that day.

"Oh. Well then, my name's Tom. And yours is Harry."

"I know. My moth-" Harry stopped. Should he tell this person about his encounter?

"You're not so bad off, if you can remember your name then," Tom continued, choosing to ignore his last comment. He took the seat beside Harry's bed.

"Are you really my brother?"

Tom shook his head. "I just told the doctors that when I brought you in so they'd keep me informed. But we look enough alike that I could pull it off."

Harry remembered, dimly, what he looked like. Dark hair, green eyes, glasses- he also remembered that he had hated his reflection. Memories came flooding back- of his aunt and uncle, of Dudley, of the cabinet under the stairs. But, when he tried to go farther, his mind hit a brick wall. Maybe Tom could offer him some answers.

"Then- where do I know you from?"

Tom shifted in his chair, as if the question had made him uncomfortable. "We've been acquaintances for a long, long time. We went to the same school- Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

"It's the 'School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' We're both wizards, you and I. And rather good ones, at that- but in different areas, shall we say." Tom shifted in his chair again.

"Oh. Really? I'm a wizard?" Harry pictured himself dancing round a fire with a staff in his hand, and then as one of the old, gray-haired Merlins in the books he had read.

"Yes, you're really a wizard. While we're on the topic- here, take this." Tom pressed a wad of Hundred- pound notes into his hand. 

Harry's eyes widened at the amount of money. "No, I can't-"

"Yes, take it," insisted Tom.

"Really, I don't want it-"

"It'll cover the hospital expenses, and then you can find an apartment somewhere, and live off of it, until they find you. It's better than living with those _muggles_." Tom's eyes darkened, and then he flushed and hung his head as if embarrassed. He shouldn't be- Harry didn't know what he was talking about

"Muggles?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Tom sat silent for a while longer, as if he had not heard Harry's question. Then, suddenly he looked up and waved his hand dismissively. "Non- magic folk. But Harry, I have a favor to ask of you in return. I know I have no right to be asking you favors, at all, but-"

"What?" said Harry firmly, sitting up and putting on his glasses. It was the least he could do to grant Tom a favor for all the money he had given him.

"I want you to erase my memory. _All_ of it. I don't think I can stand living with it a minute longer. I mean, I'll teach you the spell, and everything, and all you'll have to do is cast it. Which shouldn't be a problem for_ you._"

Tom grasped his hand and looked earnestly into his eyes. If Harry erased his memory, then he wouldn't have anyone left who knew him. He'd be alone, with no one to help him recover his memory. But Tom seemed to want it so badly, for some reason…

"Alright. How do I do it?"

Tom taught him the 'memory charm,' and then before he cast it Tom looked seriously down at him. "You look out for yourself, okay, Harry? There are still some of my followers out there, and they'll be wanting revenge. Avoid anyone suspicious- looking."

His followers? Thought Harry suspiciously. Who _was_ he?

"Go on, cast it, before the doctors come back-" said Tom.

Harry murmured the appropriate words, waved the wand Tom had given to him, and a few moments later Tom was staring blankly at him.

"Your name is Tom Riddle," said Harry, repeating what Tom had told him to say. "You work as a traveling salesman. You are looking for a new job and an apartment."

Then Tom blinked, and asked "What am I doing here?"

"Leaving," said Harry, pointing at the door. Tom nodded and sauntered out, leaving Harry alone.

His followers want revenge on me? pondered Harry._ And what did he mean it was his fault that I'm here?_

Harry shuddered and pulled the flimsy blankets closer about himself. He had a nasty feeling that he'd find out, soon.

*

"And our top story for tonight…the boy hero Harry Potter still has not been found…"

The radio fizzed and rattled under Ron's fist. "Oh, shut up," he hissed at it. "No one ever like Harry while he was _alive_, and now it's a national tragedy when he's dead?"

"Ron," said Hermione gently, "people are stupid. You can't let it get to you- and besides, maybe Harry's _not_ dead. We don't know for certain…."

The two of them were sitting in the den of the Burrow, settled in front of the fire. Everyone else had long since gone to bed, but they both found that ever since Harry disappeared, sleep was hard to come by.

"You're right," sighed Ron, staring disconsolately down at his lap. "Tomorrow, we'll visit Mungo's and…Hermione?" he gasped, staring at his friend.

"I miss him, so much…" choked Hermione, her resolve finally faltering. Crystalline tears were tracing their way down her cheeks.

"Hey," said Ron, awkwardly taking her into his arms, "don't cry, Hermione…you were always the strong one…"

"Yes, well…it's easy to be strong, when your loved ones aren't in danger…" Then she dissolved into sobs, clinging desperately to her friend.

"We'll find him. We have to."

An insistent tapping came from across the room. Ron disentangled himself from Hermione and rose, glancing at the window. It was an owl, perched on the ledge outside.

To his surprise, it wasn't a familiar bird- in fact, it looked like the ones the Death Eaters used, all black.

He opened the window cautiously, and the owl flew into the room with a burst of hot air. It deposited a slip of paper into Ron's hand, and then turned and flew out the window again.

"What does it say?" asked Hermione, eyes gone wide.

In scrawling handwriting the message read: _Your friend has failed. The heir is alive._

*

A/N: I switched from first-person to third, I know. I hope it didn't throw any of you off; it was just a better option when changing this into a full- length fic, so that I can accurately display all of the character's nuances. TBC….


	3. The Chase

Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me…for now, anyway… *laughs evilly* (Today fanfiction…tomorrow, the world!)

*ahem* Sorry, too much Tom-psyche…anyway, on with the chapter…

Oh, and you should know, that the section in Italics is a flashback, and it'll probably be like that throughout the story (the flashbacks, I mean).

*

_He was so close…so close to pulling it off. He was scared out of his wits, his stomach was twisting itself into knots, and he was surprised that the Ministry officials hadn't noticed yet. He had always said that he could charm who he needed, however, and now that boast had proved true under the pressure. But soon, soon it would all be over, and he wouldn't have to worry about it ever again…_

_"We'll need to take your name, son, as a witness to the crime…" the official was saying, his quill floating above his pad._

_"T-Tom Riddle, sir…" he stuttered, wringing his hands in front of him. The scared kid bit always worked, and the ministry official was falling for it…after all, he was really scared, just about a different thing than the officer thought._

_The quill moved fast as it scribbled down his name, blue feather flicking about in the air._

_"Alright then, Tom…"_

_"SIR!" echoed a cry up the basement steps beside them "Quick, down here!"_

_Tom was frozen in panic for a few moments, his breath coming in short, quick gasps. Warm blood trickled from the holes his nails had gouged in his palm._

_The next moment, and he wasn't sure quite how, he was down the basement, clinging desperately to the official's wand arm._

_"NO! Please, you don't understand, no sir, PLEASE," he pleaded…but it was too late._

_With a flick of his wand, the ministry official had sentenced Kitty to death. In a flash of green light, she was gone, keeled over on top of the corpse that had once been the caretaker._

_Tom slumped to the ground, clawing at his face, still chanting his pleadings because it was the only thing that kept him sane._

_"Sir!" gasped one of the lower officers, kneeling with is hands placed on Kitty's shoulders. "You can't just kill a person like that! You need to at least give them a trial…she was only a child…"_

_"Are you weak, Edward?" growled the official._

_"No, but…_

_"She was obviously guilty, Edward. If you speak up again, you can kiss that promotion goodbye!"_

_"Yes, sir…" said the officer, sparing Tom a piteous glance._

_"Clear the premises…bring the dead to the morgue."_

_The officers moved about the basement, and then Tom was alone, curled into a fetal position on the basement floor. _

*

Remus Lupin awoke curled in a ball in the corner of his den, clothing shredded and body bleeding from various deep cuts. The wolfsbane had not helped at all; the change had been akin to that of his childhood, when he had had no control. On such nights, you can feel the wolf take control of you acutely, the rage and bloodlust taking you deeper into an endless oblivion of unconsciousness.

Well, he told himself, it _was_ the blue moon, so the violence was to be expected. But the tiny voice in his head knew this was not the real reason; the wolf was agitated because Padfoot had not been there.

And Padfoot had not been there because Harry wasn't here…

Remus groaned and sat up, running a hand through his hair.  He desperately tried to prevent the weeks' events from savaging his thoughts, but they came anyway, relentlessly and just as horrible as they had been before…

The day of judgement had finally come. You could feel it then; you could almost taste the menace in the air. He, Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Order were lined up against a parallel line of Death Eaters, with Harry holding the Order's line in the middle. He had been magnificent that eve; Remus remembered being proud of the boy, who had become even more powerful than his father.

The Order of the Phoenix had been outnumbered that night; but thanks to his own and Hagrid's efforts, among their number they held powerfully magic Werewolves, and Giants. Maybe, just maybe, they had thought, victory was in their grasp.

Then it happened. Harry vanished from their line. Just vanished- into thin air. The Order managed to drive the Death Eaters into retreat, but the one, most important person had been lost to them.

Days later, after relentless searching, the place of battle between the heirs had been found; but it was merely a patch of flattened grass in a pitch, with Harry's wand singed beside it. Neither Voldemort nor Harry had been present.

They made the assumption that Voldemort was killed; but none of them were quite willing to assign the same fate to the boy.

Remus couldn't believe Harry was dead, either…not the brilliant, kind boy who had been under his study for so long…

The morning sun slanted through half-open blinds, blinding him and making patterns on the wooden floor. Remus struggled to his feet and was just about to go tidy himself up and make a cup of tea when the doorbell rang.

He glanced down at his appearance, and then shrugged and staggered to the door, figuring that it could be no one of importance this early in the morning.

He swung open the front door and blinked owlishly in the bright light, trying to make out who it was that stood in front of him.

A strong grip took hold of his shoulders, followed by a familiar voice: "God, Remus, you look like hell…"

"Sirius! Well, it's no thanks to you…" he croaked, squinting at the man. Sirius' dark eyes cleared for a moment and an expression of remorse filled them.

"I'm sorry," he said, guiding Remus back into the home they shared and sitting him down on a kitchen chair before moving to the stove. "I hadn't forgotten, but it was those damned Death Eaters again…they attacked last night, and we were missing a few good men because of the full moon. We had a hell of a time driving them off again…"

Remus swore softly. "I'm sorry, I should have been there…"

"You couldn't," said Sirius simply, pouring tea and carrying it over to the tiled table. This time when he met Sirius's eyes they were clouded again, and Remus knew that he was thinking of Harry. Sirius had become withdrawn and dreamy ever since his godson disappeared. He took no interest in his surroundings and circumstances, and cared not for his life. He scared the hell out of Remus when he got like that; the only other time he had been in such a state was when he had escaped from Azkaban.

Oh yes, and they had cleared Sirius's name this year…he was no longer a wanted man. But Remus thought he would have rather been in jail.

"Why do they do it?" said Sirius abruptly, stirring his tea agitatedly.

"Why do who do what?" Remus asked calmly, falling back into the professor's persona that he utilized whenever he was uncomfortable.

"Why do the Death Eaters still cause us trouble?" Sirius's eyes spat fire, surprising Remus for the second time that day. "Goddamnit, Voldemort's dead! They have no power anymore! This time about thirty years ago, they were trying to get out of going to Azkaban, cowering in fear of the Ministry!"

"I suppose," Remus answered slowly, "that they don't care anymore. I mean, they can't get out of conviction for a second time, can they? They've put their souls in Voldemort's hands, and they've played their last gamble and lost. They can no longer get away with their greed and corruption, and they know it, but instead of being sent to jail they opt to fight back. We all know, however, that it is a lost cause."

"So, they're desperate."

"In a word, yes."

Sirius stared broodingly into his cup. "They were daft to serve Voldemort in the first place. The only person he ever worked for was himself."

Remus smiled. "Greed can be a powerful ally."

The fireplace in the den flared to life, and Ron's voice, sounding panicked, echoed out of it: "I need help! I'm on the corner of Broad and Birch….attack…Death Eaters…Harry…" The message sputtered out and died.

*

Harry sighed and flicked the cap he had bought himself around, covering his face with its brim. The noontime July sun was beating down upon him, and it was becoming almost unbearably hot on the London streets. He had pondered briefly (very briefly) returning to the Dursleys, where at least it was air conditioned, but had opted instead to buy himself an ice cream and move on.

It had been nearly a week since he was released from the hospital, and since then he had found himself an apartment, but he couldn't afford to pay for air-conditioning. Granted, Tom had given him enough money to provide for it for at least a little while, but since Harry had no intentions of finding a job for as long as possible, he had to make his savings stretch.

Really, it was no problem, either- he was used to living in squalor from his life at the Durselys.

Harry found it hard to believe that he had become a wizard after leaving that place; his life from age eleven up till now was a blank. Really, who could have ever thought that he, a scrawny kid who was always picked on, would ever possess any magical qualities? After he had thought on it for a little while, he had realized that he had always done some pretty strange things when he got upset, but then he had never paid any attention to it.

"Look at that guy across the street. Isn't he weird? He's dressed in all black!"

Two teenage girls passed him, talking to each other in whispers. Harry looked up from his mint chocolate chip and glanced across the way. The man caught his eye right away- how could he not? He was dressed in a long black cloak with a hood pulled over his face, rather unusual for a day such as this. The man must have noticed Harry's stare, because he grinned wolfishly at him.

"Tsk- there's a shady character if I ever saw one," answered the other girl scornfully. They laughed and continued on.

Harry turned away and moved swiftly down the way he was travelling, but the dark man was following him now, matching Harry pace for pace. Tom's warning echoed in his head: "avoid anyone suspicious- looking."

Harry dropped his ice cream and broke into a flat- out run, frightened and determined to avoid any trouble. He bowled over the two girls in front of him in his haste, not even bothering to stop and apologize. In fact, in his flight, he must have knocked over at least a half-dozen Londoners; he only hoped they would understand and move on. 

The man had crossed the street by now and was hot on Harry's heels.

_Why me? What did I do?_ Harry thought desperately, though he had no time to ponder it. 

Suddenly another man, dressed the same way as the one behind Harry, jumped out in front of him and forced him down a side alleyway. Harry tried to run out of the exit on the other side, but another of his attackers magically appeared. They had him cornered.

Harry cursed his stupidity at allowing them to trap him so easily. He should have been more aware, quicker on his feet.

"Hello, Harry," said one of the cloaked figures, smirk apparent in his voice although his face could not be seen.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Harry demanded, turning quickly from one man to the next.

"Why, don't you know? Revenge. Revenge, Harry. Purely and simply."

The men moved in on him, forcing Harry against the side of the building.

"Now, you shall die."

*

"No, I'm sorry sir, we have no one here that matches your description," insisted the woman working the hospital desk, handing Ron back his photo of Harry.

"Check again," Ron said stubbornly, forcing the picture back into her hand.

"I'm sorry sir, but he's _not here_," the woman growled, by this time fed up with Ron's persistence. "Maybe you should try another hospital." She had succeeded in giving the picture to Ron, so she turned back to her work at the computer, completely ignoring his existence. 

Ron sighed and pushed his way through the revolving doors of the hospital, grumbling under his breath. He could barely stand the receptionists at hospitals anymore, so many times had they turned him down. He still had not accepted the fact that Harry was dead, no matter what he complained about to Hermione, and instead blamed his unsuccessful searches on incompetent hospital workers.

_Hermione._ More than anyone, she had been suffering ever since Harry left them. She loved him; and because Ron loved her, he would continue on searching. He missed Harry dearly as well, but it was nothing compared to her pain.

The letter from the other night was also bothering him more than he could admit. He took the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and read it for the hundredth time that week: _Your friend has failed. The heir is alive._

That wasn't true. How could Harry fail? He had been extraordinarily talented and brave, had been ten times better than Ron himself at everything, at friendship and loyalty and…

Ron was jerked from his reverie by a hard shove. He stumbled forward a few steps, glaring at the quickly retreating back of his assailant. The man had knocked Ron over in his haste…

Suddenly Ron realized that that was no normal man, but a Death Eater, dressed in the traditional black garb. Ron considered for a few moments just ignoring him, in no mood for a fight, but he was chasing a boy in a red cap…a boy that looked extraordinarily like…

"Harry!" Ron cried, recognizing the unruly dark hair beneath the cap. The two were now far ahead of Ron, but he gave chase anyway, heart pounding in his chest. If they did anything to Harry before he got there, Ron would never forgive himself. But what luck was it that after weeks of hospital search he would finally find Harry running down the street in front of, of all people, a Death Eater?

A few moments later, Ron swung into the alley the two had turned down ahead of him. The Death Eaters, three of them, had formed a semi-circle around Harry, pinning him against the dirty brick wall.

"Now you shall die," said the central one, raising a wand.

"NOO!" cried Ron, barreling forward with his own wand. But before either of them could move, Harry had slugged the Death Eater, knocking him backwards. _Go Harry,_ Ron thought wryly.

"Get behind me!" shouted Ron, pulling Harry around and safely protected behind his back. The fallen Death Eater raised his wand again, but Ron was ready for him this time: and with a cry of "Expelliarmus" the man flew backwards hard against the wall and slumped to the ground. As his two companions knelt to rouse him back to his feet, Ron forcibly moved Harry out of the alley and back onto the main street.

"Follow me! We need to find a fireplace!"

If Ron had noticed the confused expression upon his friends face, he said nothing and instead ran, kicking open the nearest muggle home's door.

"Hey! What're you-" Harry cried, but was cut off by Ron's hand over his mouth.

"Shh!" he hissed. "Do you want to get us caught?"

Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Ron hurried over to the small fireplace and began speaking into it. He was asking someone for help, but who the hell it was that resided in a fireplace Harry had no clue. The home they had broken into was nicely decorated, rather reminding Harry of the Durselys, except smaller. He wondered if the boy knew the person who lived here…

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" roared a large, mustached man with a gun in hand, stumbling down the bedroom steps. Apparently not.

"Sorry," Ron said wryly with a quick smile, rising and yanking Harry with him again.

"We should be okay now," said Ron between huffs of breath as the two ran, mustached man ranting at them from his front door. "Sirius and Remus are coming, hopefully!"

This was all happening too quick for Harry, whose top priority until now had been not to loose his new cap in his flight from the psychotic men in the black cloaks.

_Flight with a psycho, you mean._ Harry mentally corrected himself as he stared wide-eyed at his strange red- haired rescuer. He didn't know what was going on, but he did know that his life was in the balance.

"Who?" Harry responded, trying in vain to get at least a vague understanding of his situation.

Ron glanced back at him, looking at Harry as if there were something wrong with him. "Sirius and Remus, you know? Oh, go on, Harry, you can't have forgotten them!"

Harry flashed a nervous smile. "Oh, of course not," he lied, afraid that if he said no the boy would abandon him.

Briefly, Ron worried over Harry. Something was not quite…right with him. He wanted to stop and make a fuss over his friend, like his mother used to do, he wanted to stop and cry on his shoulder, he wanted desperately to confirm that this wasn't just some crazy dream…but unfortunately, as ever, such time was not granted to him.

"Hello, by the way," Ron opted for instead, smiling at his abruptly resurrected friend.

"Hello," answered Harry, still lost as to what quite was happening.

"HALT!" cried one of the men in the black cloaks, appearing suddenly in front of them. The rest of his companions appeared around him, and they all had their wands pointed at Harry and his rescuer. The boy shoved Harry behind him again.

"Let us go, Malfoy," Ron said coldly, gripping his wand tightly. "You have no business with Harry now, if the letter I got was correct."

"Ah, so you got my little note? I thought you'd enjoy it. Pity Potter had to survive as well, but we can fix that, can't we?"

"Harm one hair on his head and I'll make you wish you were never born," Ron growled in return.

"Traitor," answered the Death Eater, throwing back his hood to reveal bright blond hair. "You were once one of us, Weasley…or have you forgotten that?"

Ron closed his eyes, keeping his face straight so he would not allow Draco the pleasure of seeing how much pain the comment had caused him. He regretted those years of his life with all of his heart now, and would take them back in an instant if he could…

Meanwhile, Harry started behind Ron, finding it hard to believe that the boy had once been one of his attackers when he was working so hard to save Harry now.

"I'm not anymore, and that's all that matters," Ron answered hotly. "It's because of Harry that I'm okay today, and I won't let you hurt him."

_Because of me?_ Thought Harry, wishing that he could remember at least some fragment of his wizarding past.

"Then, unfortunately, you will die with him," Draco answered with a smirk, raising his wand. "Crucio."

Ron put up a spell in time enough to block it, but one of Malfoy's companions took aim a moment after, catching the boy off guard. Ron went spinning into the street, knocked out of control by an expelliarmus curse, leaving Harry alone and helpless.

Harry, feeling like a deer in headlights, backed away a few steps as Draco raised his wand again.

_I've been in this situation before,_ Harry thought incredulously. Painful memories, of torture and blood, of green light at the edges of his vision, began to consume him.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cursed, wondering why the boy wasn't moving. "Harry, get out of the way!" He started to help his friend, but was momentarily distracted by a trolley bus heading his way. 

Harry, however, ignored Ron and  buried his face in his hands, beginning to gasp with pain. "No, please…I don't want to remember, not this…."

Then a lot of things happened, all in the space of a moment.

"AVADA-" Draco began…

"HARRY!" Ron cried, running forward, but not fast enough…

"NO!" Harry screamed, winding his fingers through his forelock and pulling hard. "LEAVE ME ALONE! GO AWAY!" Trembling with rage and pain, a burst of strong magical power emanated from Harry like golden lightening, even more powerful than lightening…

…and knocked the Death Eaters to the ground, hard. Harry's attack had hit them with the weight equivalent to a ten-ton truck. Their robes and wands went everywhere, blood leaking from wounds where they had fell. A puddle was fast forming, but they weren't dead, yet.

Harry collapsed to the ground, weak and trembling, and buried his face in his knees.

*

A/N: Not much about Tom this chapter, but we'll see what's happening to him next. We get a little snippet of his past, that sorta shows why he's so obsessed with death.

Remus and Sirius! Yay! I finally got to incorporate them…if you haven't read any of my other work, you should know that I love them both to death.

Was Harry's reunion with Ron kinda rushed? I don't know, but I wanted all these things to happen in a space of about a few minutes, so. I didn't think it would be realistic if they stopped right in the middle of a chase and bonded, but they do that next. We'll get more into their relationship and why Ron became a Death Eater next chapter (Although I really should start again on 'I'm Sorry' and tell the whole story- go read that one if ya like H/Hr). For now, I left you with a cliffy :P.

Thanks for your reviews again, and yes, Skade, I'm rather proud of my collection of plot bunnies! I only wish I had time to be more rambly…__


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